


Touch The Fashion; Change Your Life

by purecamp



Series: Mean Queens: The Series [4]
Category: RuPaul's Drag Race RPF
Genre: F/F, Mean Girls References, Mean Queens, Mean girls Au, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-16
Updated: 2020-05-16
Packaged: 2021-03-02 17:33:43
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,867
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24220630
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/purecamp/pseuds/purecamp
Summary: Violet gets a big break... and a mental break. As it turns out, organising a fashion show with all your chaotic stupid friends is hardly as easy as it might sound.
Relationships: Courtney Act/Willam Belli, Sharon Needles/Alaska Thunderfuck 5000, Trixie Mattel/Katya Zamolodchikova, Violet Chachki/Pearl Liaison
Series: Mean Queens: The Series [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/915267
Kudos: 4





	Touch The Fashion; Change Your Life

“That all sounds perfect,” Violet said into her phone, the device caught in the crook of her neck as she finished jotting down the details she was being given into her diary.

She listened intently again as the woman on the other end of the line finished up, before saying her goodbyes and clicking the end call button. She stared down at the page covered in her scrawling handwriting, not entirely sure that she was taking everything in. She’d never received a phone call that had flustered her so much before, and the amount of work she was going to have to do over the coming weeks hadn’t even registered in her mind yet.

Several seconds of silence passed as Violet continued to try and compose herself, before she shook her hair back, took a deep breath and yelled:

“PEARL!”

As loudly as she could.

Seconds later she heard footsteps approaching their office door and the blonde haired woman burst through, looking as though Violet had shouted fire instead.

“What’s going on?” she asked breathlessly, her eyes darting around the room.

“Pearl…” Violet started slowly, now almost reluctant to say the words out loud in case she was making things up.

“What?” Pearl asked, more insistent now, worry about what was going on creasing her brow.

“I’mgoingtobedoingmyfirstsoloshow.”

The words burst out of Violet in a complete rush, leaving Pearl even more confused than she had been when she entered the room.

“Babe,” Pearl said, crouching down in front of Violet and taking her hands. “Slow down, take a deep breath, and try again.”

Violet obediently did as she was told. Her heart felt as though it were about to hammer through her chest.

“I’ve been offered a space to do a solo show,” she said, her eyes bright and her voice tinged with excitement.

Pearl’s own eyes widened.

“You’re joking,” she breathed, knowing what a big break this was for Violet. If the right people came to her show, and she got the right media coverage, this could be her chance for thousands of people to see her work and what she could do.

Violet shook her head, trying her hardest to control herself.

“Not a joke. Babe-” Violet was about to start shrieking when suddenly a new thought hit her with a sledgehammer. “Babe, I need to start work right now or I am never going to be ready.”

Pearl laughed. “Vi, you’ll pull it together. You always do. Can we not go out for a celebratory dinner first?”

Violet slowly shook her head.

“Plenty of time for dinners later. First, I need models.”

She bit her lip. “Well. It’s a damn good thing I have a ton of pretty friends, or we’d be fucked.”

Violet quickly set Pearl to work drawing up a list of all the girls that she could beat into modelling for her, and a separate list of girls that she could call on in a model emergency if someone had to drop out for any particular reason. They spent the majority of the rest of that day working through the list, calling each girl and quickly coercing her into saying yes before moving on to the next one.

Each one of her friends reacted in a different way to the news. Sharon refused to believe her for a solid five minutes, Katya immediately started offering ‘fashion’ advice, Trixie couldn’t believe Violet wanted her to model, Willam laughed and Courtney hit her, and Alaska just yelled. Violet swore that it would be easier to use a bunch of cats as models rather than her friends, but they were all (mostly) leggy and gorgeous with beautiful hair and features. At the very least, they’d be cheap and aware of how to stay off her bad side - including the wrath that would follow if they did.

************

Really, Alaska should’ve palmed the melody planning off to Courtney when she’d had the chance. It was when she was buzzing from the initial high of Oh-my-god-our-song-is-on-the-radio that she’d agreed to do it, but looking back, she was no good. Lyrics she could do, and she’d written a fair few as she wasted time. The melodies, somehow, just didn’t come to her.

She’d ended up on Twitter, curled underneath several blankets on the sofa. In reality, her and Sharon’s little flat was cold and slightly bleak, but with the fans (if she could call them that) tweeting her and squealing at her replies, she could fool herself into thinking she was a star. Maybe one day she’d be able to afford a nicer home, with a functional heating system, but for now they had been dismissed as pipe dreams. Alaska wasn’t even sure what a pipe dream was.

“Morning, Violet.” She drawled lazily into her phone, tapping the ‘answer call’ button with one long nail.

Down the phone, Violet snorted. “It’s two in the afternoon, Alaska. What are you doing?”

“Social media management for the band.”

“So you’re fucking around on Twitter, yes?”

“That’s right.” Alaska replied without hesitation. “Need me for something?”

“Kinda.” Violet’s pitchy voice betrayed her nonchalant statement. “Would you… How do you feel about modelling?”

Alaska sat up from her slumped position, confused. “Vi, I model for you all the time. Is that it? You don’t need to ask.”

“I know.” Violet responded. “It’s… different. Like, for a show.”

“Oh. Who’re you working with? It better not be one of those asshole designers that only allow models over seven foot tall and under ninety pounds. I don’t like those guys.”

Even through the phone, Alaska could see the exasperated expression on Violet’s face. “You dumb bitch, that’s not a thing. No one does that. And speaking of no one… I’m not working with anyone. It’s my show.”

Alaska had to replay the words in her head several times before they actually stayed there and retained their meaning. Her Violet - the Violet who made her parade up and down the living room in dresses and skirts she’d made, who insisted on sketching outlandish outfits and attempting to put them together just for fun - was going to have an actual fashion show. One that didn’t involve the stairs in Alyssa’s house and a ring light propped up on the kitchen counter.

A real show. Real cameras, real lights, real runways and dressing rooms and audiences.

“You - we - me - you mean - and - WHAT?!” She spluttered, unable to wrap her tongue around the words she wanted to say. “You’re doing a fashion show?! When? Where? How? What?”

Violet sounded breathless. “The date and venue are fixed, it’s no Alexander McQueen deal but it’s me and it’s us and it’s pretty much now or fucking never. Are you in?”

“I’m almost offended that you have to ask.” Alaska squealed down the phone. “Of course I’m in! I’m so in that… I can’t think of a way to finish this phrase. But I’m in! Oh, I’m so happy for you!”

“I’m completely overwhelmed.” Was the response. “Lask, how many people follow your Twitter now?”

She double-checked the laptop screen. “About twenty thousand. That’s a… a lot of people.”

“Tweet about it.”

“Huh?”

“Let’s get the ball rolling. I’m phoning up models already, think you can drum up some support and excitement for this? You have fans now.”

“I’m not sure I’d call them fans, but-” Alaska protested.

Violet interrupted her. “Lask. They’re fans. Tweet some shit for me, pretty please, and I’ll make sure you’re extra pretty in the show.”

“Done.”

Alaska Thunderfuck - @Alaska5000 - 1m

Everyone go check out @VChachki - amazing designer, amazing friend and her amazing first show is coming up soon! Keep your eyes open for any familiar faces in it xoxo

**********************

“Top of the muffin to you Barbara, I’m being a businesswoman amongst many other business people who I suspect are secretly lizards hiding in a human skin.” Katya greeted, somewhat cheerfully. “How may I help you, Maureen?”

Violet stuttered in response. “It… I… Sometimes I don’t even want to try and understand you, Kat. You free at all?”

Katya looked around. Admittedly, she was a little bit out of her league in such a fancy place. The walls were white, with huge expanses of windows letting in almost too much light, and rich uppity art people were milling around discussing recent artworks they’d seen. Before she’d even thought about applying to any galleries to see if they’d take her works, she’d taken extensive ‘normal’ lessons from Trixie, more or less going over how to act appropriately in such a confusing, uptight space. It wasn’t easy, not by a long shot. Although Katya knew all kinds of long buzzwords that made her seem intelligent and worth listening to, all of it went out of the window when she got nervous. She could barely speak English.

The few people that she’d spoken to had seemed interested, though, which was encouraging. They didn’t seem to mind her accented English, or her slight fumbling, and they looked as though they were enjoying her far-out art pieces. Alaska had once described them as ‘cool’, Violet had said they looked like ‘a visual representation of your mind’, and Sharon had called them ‘an acid trip’. Overall glowing reviews, as were the ones of the critics she spoke to - but in much fancier, art-specific terms.

“I’m free. But if you want my art, they’re not free. I’m networking, Bar- Violet.”

Violet hummed. “As long as you act normal, you should be fine. Listen, I have some really big news.”

Katya gasped. “You’re pregnant! Ew!”

“Oh for fuck’s sa- No, Katya. Not even close. Not even possible, actually. Look, do you remember when I showed you my sketchbook?”

Katya nodded, then remembered that Violet couldn’t see her. “Yeah, it was really good. How’s the designing going?”

“That’s the thing.” Violet took a deep breath. “My chance for a big break into the world of fashion is here, but I need help.”

In an instant, Katya was bubbling with excitement. “Happy to offer my services to you, Barbara. Just in case you weren’t aware, problem patterns are currently the most fashionable thing a woman can wear, and I’m talking layers. I have tons of problem patterns I can show you for reference if you need them. Also, bell-bottoms. Huge in Russia - and America I guess - in the 70s and 80s, and they’re on the rise again, Linda. You’re gonna wanna stock up on them. Not to mention -”

By this point, Katya had detached herself from the mingling art critics and stepped outside, suddenly remembering it was polite to do that when on a phone call. She didn’t stop talking at all, even as she pulled out a cigarette and fumbled for her lighter. Trixie could curse her all she wanted, but Katya would forever be thankful to Sharon for introducing her to the little cancer sticks.

“Oh dear god… Katya, stop.” Violet sounded utterly exhausted. “First of all… breathe. Second, I didn’t call for fashion advice, Kat. You dress like a blind street cat on LSD. I know what I’m doing on the fashion front. I called about… about modelling? Would you be okay with doing that for me?”

Katya hummed. “Let me get this straight. You don’t want my fashion help, but you want me to stand around in clothes that you made, walk a line in front of some weird people, and then walk back and smile for some photos?”

“…Yes?”

“That’s fair, and understandable. I respect your decision.”

She wheezed down the phone, dropping her cigarette onto the concrete as the waves of laughter overtook her. “I sound like a real adult!”

“Come back to reality, please. Do you trust me to make you look good?”

Katya frowned. Perhaps she was wrong, but she could’ve sworn that Violet sounded a little bit insecure. This definitely wasn’t the Violet she knew - that or this meant a lot to her. She concluded that the second option was probably the correct one.

“Violet motherfucking Chachki, I would trust you with my life.” She told her, deadly serious. “Dress me up, paint me pretty, do whatever you like. I’m yours. But don’t, uh, tell Trixie I said that.”

A loud snort came from the other end of the phone. “Don’t ever change, Katya. I’ll send you the details later, okay?”

She paused. “Actually, I’ll send Trixie the details. She’s more trustworthy than you.”

“Hey!” Katya tried to argue, then thought better of it. “Okay, true. Can she model too?”

“Yes,” Violet said immediately, knowing the more models she had the better. “She’ll keep you in check if nothing else. I’ll give her a call. Enjoy the networking, you’ll be in the Louvre before you know it.”

Before Katya could say anything else, Violet had clicked off the call. Katya frowned down at the now silent phone, shrugged, and headed back into the building, dreaming of the day when people would want to buy and display her paintings.

******************************************

“Fuck, shit, bollocks,” Sharon swore under her breath, not wanting anyone around her in the library to shoot her death stare as they were wont to do if someone made even the faintest noise. She pulled her jacket tighter around her shoulders, mind racing at a hundred miles an hour as she tried to work out how to phrase her sentence.

Essay writing was the bane of her life, but unfortunately it was the only thing that was going to get her through college. And she needed to get through college. She had no other choice. Mrs Davis had shown her that teaching was her passion, and being able to teach kids meant going through college. She longed to be back at their flat with Alaska, but she also knew she’d get nothing done, and then she’d hate herself even more. It was an ongoing, vicious cycle, but one that had a light at the end of it.

Sharon chewed on a loose piece of skin on her lip, staring hard at her laptop screen and wondering if she concentrated enough that the damned thing would write itself. Her hands poised over the keys, she was about to start typing again when her ringtone interrupted the song playing through her headphones.

“Oh, fuck off,” Sharon whispered, automatically glancing at the screen to see who it was. Violet. Her heart sank a little bit. Sharon had a policy of not answering her phone when she was working, unless it was Violet or Alaska. Alaska because she’d panic if Sharon didn’t pick up straightaway, and Violet because she only ever called if Alaska was in trouble.

Scooping up her belongings and hugging them to her chest, Sharon swiftly exited the room and made her way outside, simultaneously swiping the ‘answer call’ bar that was showing up on her phone.

“Vi? What’s going on? Is Alaska alright?” Sharon asked urgently, keeping her voice low so she didn’t disturb anyone in the building around her.

“Alaska’s fine,” Violet reassured her friend, her voice crackling down the line to Sharon and delivering the news she so needed.

Reassured, Sharon was about to launch into a long rant about the amount of work she had to do when the tone of Violet’s voice stopped her in her tracks. Violet almost never sounded excited to the point of trepidation about anything, and it was unusual enough to make Sharon take a seat and concentrate fully on the conversation.

“What’s going on then?” She asked, swinging one leg over the other and examining her nails.

“You know I always make fat jokes about you?” Violet started, the tangent she was going off on confusing Sharon even further.

“Vi, if you’ve phoned me in the middle of studying just to call me fat, I’m cutting this friendship off here,” Sharon told her. Violet laughed, shaking her head despite the fact Sharon couldn’t see her.

“No. You actually have a good body. Do you want to walk your body down a catwalk dressed in clothes that I’ve made?”

There was a silence on the other end of the line as Sharon’s mouth gaped open and she tried to make sense of what Violet was saying.

“You’re joking,” Sharon said flatly, not putting it past Violet.

“Shaz, I wouldn’t joke about something like this.”

“I don’t believe you. You’re so full of shit. If this is just you teasing me like you were yesterday, then I’m just gonna go and finish my essay. I don’t really have time for your freshman fifteen bullshit.”

Violet sighed in exasperation, not entirely sure what she could say to Sharon to make her believe what she was saying.

“Why would I joke about this?! I’ve been offered a space to do a show and this could be my big break into the industry if the right people come. Please Shaz, I need you there and Alaska and Katya are modelling-”

At this Sharon burst into laughter, finally believing what Violet was saying.

“Vi, this is your big break into the industry?” she eventually managed to ask.

“Yes!” Violet told her indignantly, it being her turn to get offended.

“And you’ve asked Katya and Alaska to model for you? The human hurricane herself and Bambi on ice?”

“Desperate times Sharon, desperate measures,” was Violet’s only response to Sharon’s laughed words. “Please say you’ll do it?”

“Oh I’ll be there,” Sharon said, her tone slightly grim. “If only to witness the complete carnage.”

Violet cheered.

“You won’t regret it. Catch you later,” and with that, Violet was gone.

Sharon closed her phone, packed it in her bag, and started laughing to the alarm of everyone walking past her. She couldn’t wait to see what happened. As excited as she was for Violet, she couldn’t help but feel it was all going to end in tears.

*******************************

“Has Alaska phoned?” Courtney breezed into her and Willam’s living room, all blonde hair and Jo Malone perfume. Willam shook her head lazily from where she’d draped herself over an old armchair.

“No. She’s working on the new song, right?” Willam asked without much interest, flicking over another page of the magazine she had balanced on her thighs.

“Yeah. She said she’d phone by three to discuss it, but I’ve not heard from her,” Courtney said, opening up the blinds that Willam had shut earlier to let some light back into the room, ignoring the protesting woman in the corner. “If we’re going to capitalise on our viral success, we really need to start recording.”

“I understood pretty much none of those words,” was all Willam said in response.

Courtney paused in front of the window and counted to ten before she turned back to talk to her girlfriend. She often did this when Willam was being insufferable. It helped her not rip the other blonde’s head off.

“Have you seen the response we’re still getting on twitter?” she said after a while, moving to perch on the battered couch. Willam nodded lazily.

“People love us. Of course people love us. We’re hot and we sing good. That’s pretty much the criteria for success these days.”

Before Courtney could respond, her phone rang shrilly from where it was placed on the coffee table that took up much of the middle of the room. Hoping it was Alaska phoning to discuss the song she’d been working on, Courtney pounced on the phone and answered the call without looking at the Caller ID.

“Have you finished? Wills and I can help you if you’re not,” Courtney said immediately, not stopping to even say hello.

“I’m not doing anything,” Willam called over, Courtney ignoring her.

“Court?” Vi’s confused voice came down the phone and Courtney’s face fell.

“Oh, Violet. I thought you were Alaska,” Courtney said, trying not to let her disappointment show in her voice.

“Definitely not Alaska. I wouldn’t have sex with Sharon if you paid me,” Violet replied, before getting back on track. “Is Willam there?”

“Yeah, she’s here. Do you want to talk to her?”

“Can you put the phone on speaker? I’ve got some exciting news.”

Courtney did as she was asked, and moved closer to Willam’s armchair so that they could both hear what was being said.

“What’s going on?” Willam asked in her usual lazy drawl.

“You two like wearing clothes and making people look at you, right?” Violet asked. Willam grinned, and took the phone from Courtney.

“I look hot in everything, of course people look at me. Courtney is pretty enough, I suppose.”

Holding back her laughter as she imagined the look on Courtney’s face, Violet plowed on.

“I have an opportunity to really break into the industry by putting on my own show, with all my designs, and if the right people come this could be it for me. Like your stupid Christmas video. But I need models to wear my designs, and I’m not going to beat around the bush: having the AAA Girls there is going to do wonders for my popularity.”

“Jeez Vi, and I was beginning to think you really liked us for our personality,” Willam responded, before bursting out into loud peals of honking laughter. Courtney slapped her on the arm, before taking her phone back.

“We’d love to help you out. Need us to do anything?” Courtney asked, willing to do anything Violet needed to support her.

“If you could tweet about it for now, and maybe just like, insta stories your fittings and stuff,” Violet trailed off, feeling weirdly awkward about asking to piggyback off her friends newfound fame, but knowing if she didn’t she was setting herself up to fail.

“It would be our pleasure,” Courtney told her, holding her hand over Willam’s mouth to stop the blonde from speaking.

Courtney Act - @courtneyact - 2m

My beautiful friend Violet is putting on her very first fashion show and she’s asked me to model some of her beautiful clothes! Check out @VChachki - she’s very talented and very stunning

Willam Belli - @willam - 2m

I’ve got to wear some garments or something and look hot - all made by @VChachki - she’s a bitch but she also knows how to dress a bitch

****************

One of the helpful things about having rich parents is that rich parents made Violet… comfortably well off, especially in comparison to her friends. The studio apartment she’d bought to live in with Pearl was an impressive size, but best of all it had lots of open space. Usually, the area was fairly tidy and minimalistic, with neither of them seeing the need to fill up the space with useless junk, but as of late it was becoming chaotic.

Violet’s officially-dubbed office was stacked with mannequins, scraps of fabric tossed over chairs and scattered across desks, and scribbled notes of adjustments and refinements were pinned to boards on the wall. Only the middle floor space could be seen, complete with a small stool in the middle so that, when Pearl had sorted everyone’s time slots, she could just check everyone’s measurements and do some fittings.

The two had been running around ever since Violet’s phone call, determined not to waste their chance. Violet knew better than anyone that the industry she wanted to get into was ruthless at best and merciless at worst. Her every move needed to be perfect before she could even be considered.

Breathless, Pearl swept into the room, almost tripping over a box of spare needles and thread that was propping the door open. Violet looked up instantly.

“Okay,” She panted, “I’ve got it just about done. Everyone has a half an hour slot, is that enough?”

Violet thought about it, then nodded. “Yeah, perfect. Has everyone fitted in okay?”

Pearl raked her fingers through her hair. “Just about, babe. Trixie and Katya are going together, because Katya can’t be trusted, so they’re coming up at one and leaving at two. Sharon was originally supposed to be here at twelve, but she has a lecture so she’s swapped with Courtney - she’ll be here at five and Courtney should be at twelve. Willam isn’t coming with her but will be here at twelve thirty when she’s done. Alaska… um, three thirty. She said that was the only time she could do, I don’t know why. The rest haven’t gotten back to me yet but they seem okay filling up the rest of the slots starting at twelve and ending at six, which also gives us a bit of a break in between. Is that okay?”

Most of this was said without taking another breath, the words melting into one another as Pearl rattled off the schedule. Mind reeling, Violet nodded and looked down at the garment laid across her desk.

“Perfect. This will fit Trixie, right? She sent me some numbers in advance but I’m not sure so I’ll be measuring and adjusting anyway, but… does this look right?”

Pearl stepped gingerly over some rolls of fabric, making her way across the room to sit next to Violet on a pouffe. She draped her arm over Violet’s shoulders, pressing a kiss to her cheek.

“It’s all gonna work out, babe. You know it. You - We can do this.” She smiled. “Speaking of, I think that was the door. That’ll be Courtney, and if it’s not Courtney, I’ll just kill myself. Let’s get going.”

Courtney was a breeze; in and out within her slot with no problems whatsoever. She brought with her a sunny smile and a basket of congratulatory cupcakes, as if she couldn’t resemble a Disney princess anymore than she already did. Following her, Willam was just herself - slightly obstinate, over-confident, and attempted to communicate loudly with a cupcake stuffed in her mouth. Nevertheless, Violet forged on. All she was doing was measuring the girls, noting the numbers down and seeing if her trial outfits fitted, but Violet swore she was training for a triathlon.

Then Katya arrived, flanked by Trixie. The Russian was grinning, clearly over-excited, and Violet’s heart sank at the thought of bringing her into her office. Granted, it was messy - but it was organised in a way that Violet knew exactly where everything was. She just knew that the second Katya stepped foot into that room, all hell would break loose.

“Katya, stop fucking fidgeting.” Violet hissed, attempting to wrap her tape measure around her waist. “I appreciate that you have abs and you like to show them off, but if you flex one more time when I’m trying to measure you I’m going to ram this tape up your asshole so I can measure the length of your intestines. Got it?”

“It’s like six metres.” Katya responded, still grinning maniacally. “This is fun. You’re really tickling, though. Is that one over there mine? I don’t like the colour.”

Violet sighed. “No, Katya, it’s not yours.”

“How about that one?”

“No.”

“That one?”

“Katya. Zamo-fucking whatever. Your outfit is not currently in this room, okay? And if you move one more time-”

Violet had counted to ten, well, more times than she could count. She loved Katya, truly, but today her patience and tolerance levels were declining with every moment or word that she produced.

“Hey, Kat, look. Cake. Have one and be nice and still for Violet. Please.” Trixie sounded as though she was also at the end of her tether, but with a few more manners left than Violet had. She shot the blonde a grateful look as she jotted down the number, silently praying it wouldn’t take much longer.

“I think I’ll have you in a dress, so no need to do thighs or calves, just the hips…” Violet murmured, mostly to herself. It was a cop out, but she needed to get Katya as far away from her as possible so that the Russian lived to die another day.

“I have gymnast hips.” Katya stated proudly, a statement that had both Trixie and Violet incredibly confused.

“What does that even mean?” Trixie dared to ask.

Katya tilted her head, but to her credit, remained still. “I don’t know, really. Hey, have you seen Sharon’s hips? She’s got a real hourglass going on right now.”

Violet sighed, feeling her soul leave her body as she did. “I think you’re done, Kat. Do me a favour and have a cigarette outside.”

“What?”

“Ju-Just do it.”

Thankfully, having witnessed the car-crash that was her girlfriend, Trixie was much more complacent and easy to work with. Violet suspected that a little bit of the highschool fear remained, which on a friend level was sad, but on a fashion level was perfect. At the very least, Trixie would do everything she could to make Violet happy and cause minimal damage. In fact, she finished five minutes early, giving her a break of an incredible one hour and thirty five minutes.

The entirety of this break was spent wondering which type of alcohol would get her bladdered the fastest, with Pearl gently swiping the glasses away from her and locking the cupboards just in case.

“Come on, soldier,” She breathed. “Just Alaska and Sharon left today, then everything stops for a while.”

Violet snorted. “Nothing will be stopping until the show is completely finished, Pearly. Can you call Alaska and see if she can come at a time that’s less awkward than three thirty? I don’t wanna put all my shit away and then have to get it out again, you know?”

Pearl was truly a godsend. In an instant, she was on the phone to Alaska in an effort to make Violet’s life that little bit more bearable.

“Vi just wants to know if there’s any other times you can come… Oh really? No, no, that sounds perfect, I’ll just double check with Violet - she can come at four and bring Sharon, she says her professor is sick or something so she gets off early. Both at four, finishing at five? Yep, that’s great Alaska. Thanks, see you in a bit!”

Violet beamed at Pearl, and stepped over all the gubbins on the floor so she could gather the blonde into her arms and place a gentle kiss to her lips.

“You know, I don’t know what I’d do without you,” Violet said quietly, feeling significantly less stressed than she had done thirty seconds ago. Pearl was a mixture of the best antidepressant, best anti-anxiety, and best cocktail all rolled into one beautiful package.

Pearl snorted. “You’d be a giant mess. C’mon, let’s go and order some good Italian food and watch some TV before Sharon and Alaska get here. An hour’s break isn’t going to kill you.”

Grumbling about how she was never going to finish and she was going to make a giant fool out of herself, Violet allowed herself to be pulled in the direction of their living room, her mouth watering at the thought of ordering her favourite pasta.

Come to think of it, she couldn’t remember the last time she’d properly eaten.

An hour and a half later and feeling a lot more relaxed about the whole affair, Violet stepped back into her office and surveyed the carnage inside. It was organised chaos. Violet, and to an extent Pearl, knew exactly where everything was, but she had to admit that it did look like a hurricane had swept through the room. It was a glimpse into the future, and Violet vowed that if this show went well she would look into getting herself an office space, if only so the mess contained within the room didn’t spill into the rest of their flat. Pearl was tolerant and supportive, but Violet knew that there was also only so much she was willing to out up with. The preparation for the show alone was putting a significant strain on their relationship, although Violet wasn’t under any illusion that they wouldn’t pull through.

“Vi, the girls are here!” Pearl called, pressing the buzzer to let them both in.

“Could you bring them in?” Violet called back as she began to organise everything she needed for Sharon and Alaska’s fitting. Pearl yelled an agreement, and Violet started humming to herself as she pulled their crudely sewn together outfits to the forefront of her clothes rail.

She had to admit to herself, despite the enormous stress she was under to get everything finished and perfect for the big day, she was enjoying herself. She’d always thrived under pressure, and knowing that it was for her very own fashion show sweetened the blow a lot. If this was what the rest of her life was going to be like, she wasn’t mad at it.

“Sharon, Alaska, get your clothes off,” she greeted the two girls as they stepped into her office, Alaska’s eye widening at the mess. Violet was usually so tidy, she was convinced for a moment that they’d come to the wrong place.

“You’ve always wanted to see me naked,” Sharon grinned as she began unbuttoning her blouse, stopping halfway to narrow her eyes in Violet’s direction.

“What?” Violet asked after a few moments of staring, pausing what she was doing to face Sharon.

“I’m only doing this if you promise to keep your comments about my body to yourself,” Sharon told her, fingers wrapping around the buttons. Violet snorted.

“Shaz, you’re doing me a favour. I need your body, love handles and all.”

“Violet!” Sharon nearly yelled, making as if to do her shirt all the way up to the top again. Alaska immediately moved to placate her, and Violet held her hands up.

“Joking Sharon, joking. You always look good, you know that, and my clothes make you look even better. Just keep your hands off Courtney’s cakes.”

Violet knew she shouldn’t have said it, but it was so easy. Sharon walked into her jokes half the time.

“I’m going to pretend you didn’t say that,” Sharon muttered, but she continued to strip down to her underwear anyway.

“Who do you want first?” Alaska asked, eager to steer the conversation back to a less dangerous path. Violet thought for a moment, pins resting between her lips.

“You, I think,” she said to Alaska, gesturing for the tall girl to stand on the small stool. “Sharon should be a lot easier, I’ve been making her dresses for years.”

Alaska complied with Violet’s directions and, using Sharon to balance, stepped up onto the stool. Violet began measuring her, the cold measuring tape making Alaska giggle and shuffle slightly on the spot.

“You know Vi, if we actually get big as a band and we don’t just like… stop being famous, you’ll have to be our designer,” Alaska said dreamily, her eyes darting around the room as she took in the various different areas that Violet had set up. Fashion design had always fascinated Alaska, but she definitely didn’t have the eye for it or the same skill that Violet did. The things she could do with a needle and thread were unbelievable.

“For what?” Violet asked, distracted by the difference between Alaska’s waist and her hips.

“You know, for shows and shoots and stuff.”

Violet paused for a second, before continuing with her work. It had just begun to hit her that despite everything, they were all beginning to hit their goals, laying down the groundwork for the careers they’d been dreaming about ever since they were little. Alaska wasn’t just singing on a school stage anymore, she was being played on the radio. Violet wasn’t just making clothes for herself anymore… she had been given the chance to show the world.

“That would be amazing Lasky,” she said, a little quieter than usual, and finished up her work in near silence. “Right, you’re done,” she said eventually, patting Alaska off the stool. “Sharon’s turn. Try not to break my stool.”

******************************

The days before the show flew by in a blur of cutting, sewing, pinning, unstitching, stitching again, and fitting the costumes to her friends bodies. Violet was convinced she’d never done so much work in her life, but she’d enjoyed every second of it. Well, nearly every second. Any time she’d had Katya over for a fitting she’d been petrified the Russian would destroy everything she’d worked on but after the first disastrous time Trixie had clearly spoken to her, because every subsequent fitting had been a lot more subdued.

However, Trixie’s speech clearly hadn’t covered them all being crammed backstage. If Katya piped up once more Violet was going to rip her head from her shoulders, and that wasn’t an empty threat.

“Babe, breathe,” Pearl instructed as she breezed past, fluffy brush in one hand and pinky blush in the other. “We’ve still got four hours until the show starts, it’s all going to be fine.” With a gentle kiss to Violet’s cheek, Pearl headed off in the direction of Trixie to finish her makeup before she sent her over to get her hair done by Courtney, who was currently battling Willam in the only corner with a plug.

“Wills, you need curls,” Courtney was telling her, brandishing her curling wand dangerously close to her face. “Violet told me that your outfit needs lots of volume in the hair.”

“I don’t care,” Willam huffed, folding her arms. “I want beachy waves that look like I’ve just been fucked, not prissy curls.”

Looking exasperated, Courtney leant forward to whisper into Willam’s ear. Her words caused Willam’s eyes to widen, and she immediately complied with what Courtney wanted.

The back wall of the tiny room was covered in mirrors and work benches, with chairs in front of them so the girls could sit and primp and preen. It was also the area where Alaska and Sharon currently found themselves, the former draped dramatically over a chair and the latter poring over a textbook.

“I’m bored,” Alaska whined, flopping her head back. “I look perfect and my hair just needs doing and it’s so long before we go on stage.”

“Lask, it’s a runway. It’s not a stage. And don’t let Violet hear you complain,” Sharon told her, only half listening to Alaska as she turned the page in her book. Even fashion shows weren’t about to stop her from studying.

“Why did she even want us here so early?” Alaska asked, picking up her phone and unlocking it so she could scroll through twitter.

“So that I know you look right way before you step foot on that catwalk,” Violet had caught wind of their conversation and paused to give Alaska her best death stare before she continued on her way to make the finishing touches to the outfits that were hung up at the side of the room.

“Told you,” Sharon said without looking up. Alaska huffed for a bit, before looking at Sharon with a mischievous glint in her eye.

“We could fuck twice before we even have to start getting ready, and still have time discuss the intricacies of Shakespeare.”

This caught Sharon’s attention, and she switched her gaze to look lustfully in Alaska’s direction. She did look so good in just a thin robe that covered her ass and not a lot else. And there was an empty bathroom…

“SHARON NEEDLES DON’T YOU DARE.” 

Sharon had no idea how Violet knew what she was about to suggest before she’d even opened her mouth. No idea. She wasn’t really sure how Violet had even heard - once again it seemed as though she just appeared out of nowhere to tell her off and disappear straight afterwards.

Not bothering to turn around, Sharon simply shrugged at Violet’s face in the mirror. “How did you even know what I was going to say?”

Violet scoffed. “Give me a break. I’ve known you long enough to know what you look like when you’re turned on. Turn it off and get back into model mode, bitch.”

She smiled suddenly, seizing her chance at revenge. “You know I need you in this show, Sharon. You’re my plus size girl.”

In a flash, she’d woven her way back through the swarm of bodies to bother someone else, leaving Sharon to swear loudly and turn back to her textbook, much to Alaska’s dismay.

“Cunt. I hope she isn’t like this every time she does a show. I’ll go insane.” Sharon rolled her eyes, leaning her head on Alaska’s shoulder. “I’m starving too. Reckon we could fork out for a takeaway later?”

Alaska hummed. “I think we have just about enough for a Chinese, but that’s it.”

“That’s fine.” Sharon told her, kissing the underside of her jaw. “Cheap food and good company is all I could ask for, anyway.

Although Sharon was irritated, and Alaska was whiny, and Katya was annoying, and Trixie was desperate, and Willam was stubborn, and Courtney was fretting, Violet felt a strange sense of calm. Part of her wondered if she had reached the point of feeling so stressed that she felt serene, but she wasn’t sure if that was true. In a way, she was beginning to realize that it was now or never. Her audience tonight would either love the show or hate it, and no amount of nitpicking would change their opinions. As long as the clothes fit, which they did, and the girls looked good, which Violet had to admit that each and every one of them did, everything would be fine.

“Hey, everyone? Can I talk a minute?”

Pearl helpfully switched off Willam’s phone, which was blasting the AAA Girl’s demo tracks as everyone got ready. At the sudden change, everyone turned to look over at Violet.

“Sorry, it’ll be back on in a minute. I just want to thank you all for doing this for me, because I know that some of you have other things you need to be doing,” She looked over at Sharon and her textbooks, “Or stuff to be working on. It means a lot to me that you’re all here, so thanks, I guess.”

“Boo!” Came Sharon’s voice from the back. “Boring! Tell us we’re pretty!”

Had she yelled her comment five minutes earlier, Violet would’ve throttled her, but this time she managed to laugh at her best friend. “Alright, alright. You’re all gorgeous, too. Don’t fuck it up.”

She caught Sharon’s eye, grinning at her. Violet knew she was cruel at the best of times, and it was more than encouraging to know that Sharon didn’t care. Despite Violet’s stupid comments, she was still laughing away in front of her mirror, beckoning Violet with one finger as she finished painting her nails.

“I’m just trying to keep you away from Katya, I can tell she’s doing your head in even worse than I am.” Sharon shrugged, eliciting an amused snort. “Because of you, I had to ask my professor for an extension on my paper about early education. Bitch.”

Violet laughed. “Sorry, Shaz. I didn’t choose the date.”

“Oh, don’t be sorry.” Sharon dismissed her. “I don’t need an extension. It’s finished. I’m just taking a break doing this. I was expecting to spend my free time on Netflix with Alaska, but this is cool too. I guess.”

There was a mischievous gleam in her eye. Violet shoved her head forwards into the mirror, cracking up.

“You’re such a typical college student. Writing papers all the time and watching Netflix. Do you have a ton of ramen, too?”

Sharon smirked. “It’s cheap, like me. Some of us can’t live in a penthouse at our age. You’re such a typical designer.”

“Everything’s gonna work tonight, isn’t it?”

“You’re asking me? You know I have a stupid amount of faith of you. If you told me you were going to tackle world hunger in a week, I’d believe you could do it. This is cakewalk - or catwalk, I guess. Of course you can make this work.”

“You’re sure?”

Sharon sighed. “Violet Chachki. I trusted you to make my prom dress. I give you all my clothes to make them go from five dollars to five hundred. I let you measure me even after you called me fat and told me I’m getting fatter from college. I know you’re slaying this, that’s why I let you do all this shit. I’m not an idiot.”

“Except with alcohol.” Violet found herself sniggering.

“Fair.” Sharon laughed. “When this is all over, Alaska and I are getting dinner and then we’re all getting smashed. How’s that sound?”

Violet raised an eyebrow. “You can’t afford to get drunk.”

“You’re getting me drunk.” Sharon replied. “Move your ass, the guy at the door wants you. Good luck.”

**********

They practiced, of course, and everyone felt ready, but it seemed that before Violet could even wrap her head around things, the show had begun. Her heart was pounding out of her chest when she heard the music playing, and watched petite little Courtney walking along the catwalk.

Alright, her friends weren’t exactly professional models, but to an outsider, you wouldn’t have known. Not a single foot was placed out of line. No ankles wobbled, no poses looked awkward, and each of their individual charms seemed to shine through. Katya had been a demon ever since the show had began, but the splits she did at the end of the runway was utterly incredible. Alaska’s dopey, almost adorable dorkiness seemed to work for her, somehow. Sharon knew how to work her body to look sexy, Willam following suit with a sluttier display, and even Trixie’s sweet, fun persona seemed to translate perfectly just through her walk and her clothes.

Everyone looked amazing. Violet was ridiculously proud.

“They would be hard-pressed not to accept you with open arms after this show,” Sharon had said, dabbing sweat from her forehead. “Fuck. It’s kind of exhilarating, having everyone looking at me.”

“She’s right!” Trixie chimed in as she appeared back around the curtain. “You’re amazing, Violet.”

She felt amazing. There was an entire fashion show going on around her right now, and she was at the centre of it all. Her designs were being marvelled at, her models were having photographs taken - her hard work was paying off massively. Even if this was her only chance, she was loving every minute of it.

Once everyone was gathered backstage once again, sweating and excited and full of energy, it finally seemed to register in Violet’s mind.

“Oh my god. Is that it? Are we done? Did we do it? Is that everyone?”

She heard a brief, “That’s everyone, you talented bitch.” from Sharon’s direction before she felt the girl crushing her in a hug, squeezing tighter than she ever thought possible. Moments later, Katya joined, murmuring apologies in Russian as she leaned her full weight on the two. Slowly, as the elation hit everyone, more and more people clinged onto Violet, until she was buried beneath her friends and family with a mixture of sweat and tears pouring down her face.

She suspected she could hear Alaska, Sharon and Pearl crying too, but she was in no position to judge them. It was over, she’d done it, and that was cause for the happiest tears she’d ever cried. 

She’d done it. Those days and weeks of frantic work had actually paid off. She’d broken the fashion seal, and now the world was her bitch.


End file.
